


Reunion at Dawn

by mocinno



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Light Angst, T Rating for mean words and violence, War, tbh this is very Claude focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocinno/pseuds/mocinno
Summary: Byleth meets her kids after five years and god, do they break her heart.Inspired by this beautiful peace of fanart: https://twitter.com/roisale/status/1161817796269019136?s=21





	Reunion at Dawn

Claude sat atop the stone ledge of the Goddess Tower, looking out at the monastery grounds below.

The place was in ruins. The Knights of Seiros had abandoned it, apparently. He’d heard about their travels across Fódlan, searching for Rhea and spreading prayer. In their schedule they left no time to tend to the monastery.

It was still dark out. The sun lay low in the distance, just barely creeping over the horizon. 

His wyvern, Egemen, had laid himself nicely at the monastery’s entrance in the nearby town. If any bandits tried attacking the monastery while Claude was there, they’d answer to Egemen’s fiery breath.

He didn’t know if everyone would come. Hell, if **anyone** would come. Sure, he tried to remind those whose territory he could visit— Lysithea, Marianne, and Hilda were the easiest. He could cloak it as a diplomatic visit or what not, and besides, there was never harm in discussing war matters with Holst. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the slightest idea how he’d excuse himself from war council to visit the remote villages of Leonie, Raphael, or Ignatz, so he was forced to settle with letters and prayers. House Gloucester was a headache in and of itself.

Lysithea would come. Probably. He knew how much she cared for the professor. They’d shared a close bond in their academy days, precisely the nature of which he was unaware.

Last he’d visited, Marianne seemed afraid to even step outside. It was a self-inflicted imprisonment, according to Duke Edmund. Claude recalled vaguely Marianne’s fear of a “curse,” a fear that apparently worsened during the war. At the very least, she’d been sleeping better than at school, and she seemed determined to go to the reunion, though her expression said otherwise.

He didn’t have to worry about Hilda, either. Say what she would, she had latched onto the professor like none other; not counting himself, she was the most certain Byleth would be joining them. In her free-time, because of course only a noble could have free-time in war, she had crafted several jewelry pieces for Byleth; Claude only knew because she flaunted them on his previous hello to Holst.

Leonie was reliable. Probably. She always did have that fixation on Jeralt, and after his death she started saying she promised to protect Byleth. What a better way to protect her than to go to the reunion? Of course, Leonie was also one of the most doubtful of Byleth’s survival, but Claude didn’t like to think about that possibility.

Lorenz... Lorenz Hellman Gloucester was a worry. House Gloucester sided with the Empire, yet Lorenz was one of the more faithful on Byleth. Claude had little choice but to hope.

Ignatz and Raphael both left to help their families. They were the two Claude was most worried about. Not because of whether they’d come— they were the two most reliable of the class. No, he feared for their lives. Merchants died frequently; trying to carry their goods through war zones often meant they were caught in the battle in unpleasant ways. He knew Ignatz and Raphael were both competent knights, yes, but the fear still bit at him. 

He felt rather like a mother hen. In his head he could imagine Byleth’s voice, firm but gentle as ever. _I want to preface this with: I have full faith in you, Ignatz. However, you have poor constitution. You’ll be particularly susceptible to physical attacks, I’m afraid, no matter how much training you do. However however! To combat this, we’re going to teach you how to shoot from far away. That way, the enemy won’t get close enough to hit you. Genius, right? _

He imagined the slight pull at the corner of her lips as she spoke the final line. Byleth was **always** like that, finding solutions best tailored to each and every student. He’d overheard so many similar conversations during his time at the academy.

It was why she was such a fantastic leader, after all. Without her personal tutoring, none of the Golden Deer would be half as good.

_Look, Hilda, you don’t like the wyvern’s saddle, I get it. This is the third time you’ve complained today. But I promise, you have a real skill in this. Trust me. I can see it in you. Once you master this you’ll be swinging your axe in the air! Doesn’t that sound cool? ... Don’t give me that look. Also, I’m assigning you a battalion. Yes, yes, I know you’re not good with leadership. But we can work through it, okay? Together._

He leaned his elbows on his knees and laughed to himself. What in the world was he doing? Recounting past memories, of conversations he shouldn’t have heard, for what? For the shits and giggles? 

Byleth pulled people aside like that so frequently it had become a regular occurrence in the week. Whose turn was it to be personally accosted by the Ashen Demon?

_Pick up the heaviest axe. It's a weighty thing, isn't it, Claude? With enough training, you'll be swinging this like there's no tomorrow. And don't give me that doubtful look! Believe in yourself. I know you have a hidden potential for axes. Trust me. All you need to do is tap into that potential and you'll be golden._

_I want to personally thank you for today. Miklan’s transformation was... unexpected. Many students were panicking, but you kept your cool. I know you’ll be a great leader one day, Claude. Trust me on that. ... And when you’re the leader of the Alliance, you can cite me, your academy teacher! Hah. _

_You said you wanted to learn flying, right? Well, here’s your mount. A beauty, isn’t he? Name him whatever you wish. He’s yours. ... Egemen? That's a good name. I know I was saying you’d be a great sniper— and don’t get me wrong, I still think that— but if this is what the student wishes, I can’t complain._

_I know I said you’d be learning to use the lance, but I changed my mind. Not because I don’t believe in you, but because it’s not your style. I can see you’re better suited to cut and bash type weapons than stabbing. Yes, you heard me right. I misjudged your fighting style. I apologize._

_Claude, during this battle I need you to take charge. Everyone is panicking. I know you lead soldiers amazingly well, and I **need** you to use that to your advantage. ... Thank you. Together, we’ll defend Garreg Mach._

”Claude?”

He nearly fell of the ledge in shock.

”Claude!” She was here, she was here, praise the goddess she was here and alive and breathing and she didn’t die she didn’t die Byleth lived Byleth—

Byleth. 

She was a mess. Her hair was a rat’s best, her eyes heavy with bags, her clothing was littered with holes, and there was even a carnation sprouting out of her pocket.

He hugged her.

She was small. Since when was she so small? “You overslept, Teach. Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that.” The nickname felt foreign on his tongue. She kept her arms at her side, almost like she was paralyzed by the shock.

”I’m sorry.”

Claude nodded into her hair. It was still mint green. She smelled like dirt and rain water. “I know.” He pulled away, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “We should head to the chapel area. It’s better to talk there.”

* * *

She wanted to cry.

Her kids grew up without her. 

The battle passed in a haze. Her muscles were still fit, the swings of her sword still powerful enough to knock a bandit flat. Even her uniform of the Enlightened One still fit her, though it had admittedly not stood the test of time.

It was her students who’d changed. They’d changed. 

The Claude before her was not the one she knew. He soared atop a dark wyvern he called Egemen, shooting down bandits at unprecedented speed. When he fired his first killing blow, she felt her gut wrench at his words. “Hold a grudge if you must.” A stark contrast to his coy “don’t hold a grudge, okay?” from their academy days.

They’d changed. Claude now accepted war, accepted grudge, a thought that made Byleth want to burst into tears.

Hilda was still lazy, of course, but there was a certain edge to it. She had a limit, now. She knew, everyone knew, there was no time to slack off anymore. Her axe swings were better timed, in a way only a seasoned veteran could know. 

Byelth really did want to cry.

Ignatz used to give a shout whenever an enemy landed a hit, often accidentally alerting other foes. Yet when an enemy assassin stabbed her sword into Ignatz’s thigh, he only bit his lip before slashing back.

Lorenz would sneer at every commoner he’d fight. When the bandit fell against his boot, he very gently lifted the body and dragged it to the sidelines of the battle. 

Byleth hated seeing her children like this. They were all scarred by the war. 

Seeing the real bandit leader rush out of the building, only to be struck by Leonie without hesitation, was a sight she would never forget. Byleth couldn’t believe the girl who’d react dramatically to every enemy movement now shot silently, aim straight as ever.

She caught a glimpse of Marianne praying over the battlefield before grabbing her skirts to catch up with the group. Praying, for mere bandits, for people most would consider undeserving of sympathy.

They returned to the monastery in high spirits. **They** did, anyway, while Byleth mostly mused to herself. She responded to her students as they chatted, but her thoughts wandered. 

She hated seen them like this. It was awful. To see them so unchanged, their personalities still glowing, yet still so different. War changed them. War hardened them. 

War made them who they were now.

It wasn’t fair. 

Lysithea shouldn’t be forced to take a slash from a barbarian and keep slinging spells. She should be allowed to rest, check her wounds, take a breather. 

Why did Raphael have to mow down foes with bloody fists, the red liquid caking under his nails? Why was he content to step over skull after skull?

Why?

Byleth had cut down many men before. She didn’t even know how many people she had killed, how many’s blood stained her hands. But that was her.

She used to be a mercenary, then a professor, now a soldier. It was expected that she fight and kill on the daily.

But her students? They were kids. They shouldn’t need to understand war, shouldn’t have to see the ugliness of it first hand. They were children.

She sat down at the dining table with a hefty sigh. The food was, well, paltry, but the Golden Deer seemed to be enjoying it anyway.

It was just like their academy days. Hilda twirled her new earrings as she spoke with Marianne, Lysithea pushed Lorenz away as he tried to offer her tea, and Byleth wanted to sob at the sight. It was so normal.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that her kids, her **kids** were forced to fight in this war. She **failed** them, by not defeating Edelgard, by falling into her five-year slumber. She was a failure of a teacher and the feeling was eating away at her.

A sudden desire seemed to well up in her throat. A craving for touch, comfort, for an intimacy she hadn’t felt since her father died. She never did trust easily, always holding people at an arm’s length.

She had to put on a strong face for her students, however. There was only one person she could trust to let her guard down around.

“Claude, would you mind coming with me?”

”Huh? Oh, sure, my friend.”

The nickname made Byleth smile despite herself. 

She pulled him outside the dining hall, in the area facing the fishing pond. The moon was reflected in the lake, shimmering and wavering. 

Byleth wrapped her arms around him. 

He made a sound of surprise before hugging her back. She knew it was weak to be so needy, when her students were suffering so much more. Yet for a moment she allowed herself to be selfish, to wallow in her shame.

His clothing smelled of blood and parchment paper. Small black bolts of ink dotted the sleeves, she noticed, and his gloves were badly beaten. A thin scar, mostly faded, ran down the side of his jaw, usually obscured by his beard.

They said nothing. Byleth was never one for words, after all, even less in the presence of emotions.

He felt strong. Clearly, he’d been training and fighting for five straight years, physically and mentally.

“Hey, Teach.” He spoke lightly into her shoulder. “Since when were you this short?”

She suppressed a laugh and leaned up on her toes to hug him tighter. “I’ve been the same size since we met.”

”Right, right. It’s us who’ve changed.”

She opened her eyes and looked out to the dining hall. The Golden Deer were still sitting and laughing. 

“... I wish you’d had a little more time before you had to.”

When she stepped back, she was crying. 

She was selfish. So selfish.

He looked ready to say something, but his lips remained sealed.

”I’m a mess... Thank you,” she bowed at the waist, “for the hugs, both of them. I needed them."

Finally, his words forced themselves out. “The first time I saw you cry was when Jeralt died.”

”It was the first I’d cried at all.” Byleth wiped at her eyes with a sniff.

”His journal said you didn’t even cry as a baby.”

”I don’t cry for life. I only cry for death.”

His lips upturned in a slight smile. “No one’s died, my friend.”

”Your innocence.” She surprised herself at the words. “I think your innocence died.” 

Claude’s eyes widened. It was a dramatic statement, better suited for flowery poetry than a hardened mercenary. “You’ve never been one for melancholy. I think you need some good old fashioned Golden Deer cheer.”

He pat her on the back as they reentered the dining hall. Her former students waved them in with a round of applause for their leaders.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third time I’ve written about the post-timeskip reunion and each time it hurts my heart.
> 
> I hope you guys aren’t sick of Teacher Byleth yet because I’ve still got a lot of feelings about my GD kids.


End file.
